Tableux
by naidel
Summary: A fight with an agent, as seen from the outside. features cake and black leather...interested?


Tableaux

Samuel Battersby looked up from his menu, and glanced out of the huge plate glass window that made up the street sidewall of the sushi place. It was, he noticed, another perfect day. _Not a cloud in the sky_, he noted aimlessly whilst pondering what wasabi on chocolate cake would taste like, and whether he was willing to risk perfectly good chocolate cake for the possibly more desirable outcome that such an action might result in.

As he stared aimlessly at the street outside, Samuel's attention was suddenly arrested by the sight of a running woman. A woman jogging in New York on her lunch break was not unheard of, but this woman did not exactly say "top level exec, trying to burn the extra calories from that chocolate biscuit consumed this morning." Her general appearance said more along the lines of "the only difference between me and Kate Beckinsale is class."

She was, Samuel had to admit, _hot_. Her hair was slicked back against her head and she was wearing a long black coat, and heavy, tight, leather trousers: entirely the wrong outfit for the current summer climate and strenuous exercise, but so far she had not even broken into a sweat. The only part of her attire that seemed remotely appropriate were the dark glasses shielding her eyes, but somehow Samuel got the impression that they had nothing to do with the burning sun.

As she reached the middle of the window, she turned her head briefly, glancing over her shoulder to where two men had just come into view. They wore dark, impeccably clean suits, and tinted glasses like the running woman, like their quarry. They too had not even begun to sweat through the thick polyester jackets. What interested Battersby most about these two new arrivals was the fact that they both held guns. Samuel had never considered himself an expert in this field, but he had seen enough bad action flicks to assume they would not hesitate to use them.

When she had run almost to the end of the street, and Battersby's vision, the leather-clad woman stopped and turned to face the men in suits, who – momentarily confused – stopped too. The first suit had just started to raise his arm, bringing his gun around to face his enemy, when a new arrival appeared in the strange tableaux.

It took a moment for Samuel to register what he had just seen, as a crack spread along the pavement, and a man who had apparently fallen from the sky was standing in front of the unperturbed woman. Like his companions the new arrival did not seem a common sight in New York at midday. The black cassock, swirling impressively around his ankles, seemed to declare him as something infinitely more important than Samuel's confused brain could fathom. Like the others he was wearing a pair of sunglasses, and true to form they seemed to have nothing to do with the weather.

The men in suits looked at each other, and Battersby thought he could almost see the cogs turning in their minds a they processed this new influx of information. Then as one – very sophisticated and ingenious – machine, they each raised their gun in front of them and fired six bullets in quick succession. Samuel looked towards the other end of the street, expecting to see the carnage caused by twelve hot, fast, and screaming balls of metal tearing through flesh.

Instead what he saw made him blink a few times then stare, eyes slightly unfocused, at the street, while his brain tried to rationalise the messages his eyes were screaming at it. Battersby had just seen twelve bullets twirling slowly in the air, right in front of the out stretched arm of a man dressed in sun glasses and a cassock, and a similarly dressed woman, who stood looking over his shoulder, seemingly emotionless. He saw the bullets drop.

When Samuel had finally given up on common sense in the face of overwhelming evidence, he again focused on the scene playing out on the other side of the window. He barely had time to register a blur of movement coming from the suited direction of the suited men, before the be-cassocked man turned, and walked slowly back to where the leather-clad woman stood. She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth, apparently about to begin some criticism, when Samuel was surprised to see him reach down, slide an arm around her waist and pull her into a kiss that completely cut her sentence short._ Nice one, _thought Battersby, it was after all the best way to get a woman to shut up.

Through the thick glass window, Samuel was dimly aware that a phone was ringing, and dragged his eyes away from the somewhat unusual couple long enough to see that the ringing was coming from a phone booth at the corner of the street. The man released his companion with a clear look of reluctance, and walked towards the phone, as the woman fell into step behind him. He picked up the receiver and wordlessly handed it over. The woman took it and held the receiver to her ear, and was – as far as Battersby's befuddled brain could make out– sucked into the phone.

Samuel Battersby looked up from his menu, and looked out of the huge plate glass window that made up the street sidewall of the sushi place. It was, he noticed another perfect day. _Not a cloud in the sky_, he noted aimlessly while pondering what wasabi on chocolate cake would taste like, and whether he was willing to risk perfectly good chocolate cake for the possibly more desirable outcome that such an action might result in.

As he stared aimlessly at the street outside, Samuels's attention was suddenly arrested by the sight of a teenage boy on a skateboard rushing past the window. He smiled at the back to front, red baseball cap, and the jeans that were practically around the boys ankles. _Ahh, to be sixteen again,_ thought Battersby, before the boy rounded the corner, passing a phone booth, with the receiver swinging gently by its cord.


End file.
